Chapter Text
There were three main reasons Ango hated ‘substituting’ at U.A high:
One: the paperwork.
Two: Present Mic.
And three—
A loud crash echoed somewhere outside the history department, followed by a student shouting, “IT WASN’T MY FAULT!”
Ango closed his eyes briefly.
Three: the students.
Not because they were bad kids. Honestly, that would’ve been easier.
It was because of how good they were- untouched by the horrors of the world. Sincereness dripped from every action, their intentions sweeter than honey.
It was exhausting.
He adjusted his glasses and looked back down at the mountain of papers spread across his desk. Attendance sheets. Curriculum reports. And, unfortunately, a disciplinary form Aizawa had dumped onto his desk earlier with the words handle this yourself scribbled across the top.
Yeah. Life was fantastic.
A knock at the door pulled him from his thoughts.
“Come in,” Ango sighed, mentally begging whoever it was to ignore him and leave.
For a second, nothing happened.
Then the door slowly creaked open and Midoriya Izuku peeked inside.
Freckles scattered across his face like someone had flicked paint over skin, jade curls falling into wide emerald eyes. Behind him, Ango caught a glimpse of chestnut-brown hair.
Even if he hadn’t seen her, Ango would have assumed Uraraka was lloitering around, those two seemed to be joined at the hips these days.
Hesitantly, Midoriya stepped in.
“Um… Sakaguchi-sensei?” He asked.
“Yes, Midoriya?”
“Sorry for bothering you!” he blurted out immediately. “We can come back later if you’re busy—actually you probably are busy, sorry, I don’t know why I said that—”
“Deku-kun,” Uraraka whispered, nudging him.
“Right. Sorry.”
Ango gestured lazily toward the office. “You’re already here. What do you need?”
Midoriya straightened instantly like he’d been called on in class.
“We were wondering if you knew when Midnight-sensei was coming back because we realized nobody’s actually told us anything specific and then Todoroki said maybe she’s transferred schools but that didn’t make sense because Aizawa-sensei probably would’ve mentioned it and also she’s a pro-hero but I haven’t heard any news about her recently, unless it’s classified which honestly would be kind of concerning now that I think about it—” .”
He took a pause to breath
“-And before you misunderstand,” he added very quickly, “it’s not because we don’t like your class! Your class is great! I mean—not great great because that sounds weird, but you explain things really well, and your handwriting’s super neat, and you actually answer questions unlike—”
Midoriya stopped abruptly.
Ango raised an eyebrow. “Unlike?”
Somewhere in the distance, Present Mic sneezed violently.
Midoriya went pale.
“...No one,” he said weakly.
Uraraka snorted beside him before clearing her throat. “Like Deku said, we were wondering if you could tell us when Midnight-sensei would be back?”
Ango tipped his head back, pretending to think for a moment “In three months, if I remember correctly”
“Thank you, sensei” Midoriya bowed
The two turned to leave, then Uraraka hesitated.
“Um… actually…”
Ango already knew he wasn’t going to like whatever came next.
“Yes?”
She shifted awkwardly. “I hope you don’t mind me asking, but sensei, are you okay?”
Ango blinked in surprise.
“Yes” He responded “I’m okay, why do you ask?”
Uraraka opened her mouth, closed it, and then opened it again “I just…thought you looked tired"
Oh.
In the last two weeks, there was one very important conclusion Ango had reached.
These kids were naive, not stupid. They were a lot more observant than they let on.
“I’m alright, just have a lot of paperwork” He responded
Uraraka looked unconvinced but nodded anyway. “Okay then.”
Next to her, Midoriya nodded like he knew the struggle The administrative burden placed on modern educational staff is honestly kind of terrifying when you think about, so please be careful not to overwork yourself sens—”
“Okay bye, sensei!” Uraraka said quickly, interlocking their hands before dragging him away, Ango saw the tip of Midoriya’s ears flush red.
Behind them, the door slammed shut.
Ango let out a deep sigh, resting his face in the palms of his hands, a dull throb in his head.
(“Really, work has just ended and my head’s already starting to hurt” Ango had groaned
“You’re overworking, Ango”
“Work is overworking me” He had said in return)
‘Shut up’ he told himself. He couldn’t afford to get distracted.
Three months was all he had for this mission, and he couldn’t fail, not again.
────────୨ৎ────────
By the time Ango made it to the class, the bell had already rung.
Naturally, he stepped into pure chaos.
Bakugou was halfway out of his seat yelling at Midoriya about something that sounded deeply unimportant and somehow life-threatening at the same time.
“I’m telling you, that move was stupid!”
“It worked though!”
“THAT DOESN’T MAKE IT LESS STUPID!”
Across the room, Ashido and Kaminari were arguing over a completely different topic, both with the confidence of people who were absolutely right despite being completely and most definitely incorrect.
“That is NOT how electricity works!”
“Says who?!”
“Says basic science! Your quirk is electricity Kaminari, you should know this”
Jirou stared at the unfolding chaos with barely hidden amusement as lida tried (and failed) to break the two apart.
“Such volume is highly unacceptable” He snapped only to be completely ignored.
At the back of the room, Todoroki and Yaoyorozu were having what appeared to be a completely normal conversation in the middle of the apocalypse.
The moment Iida noticed Ango standing in the doorway, he straightened so fast it was almost mechanical.
“Everyone,” he announced loudly, “sensei is here!”
The classroom quieted in stages.
“Good afternoon sensei” They all parroted
“Thank you, lida” Ango said in lieu of a greeting. “Good morning everyone, settle down and take out your textbooks, flipping to page one-eighty-three.Today we’ll be discussing post-conflict reconstruction policies and the effect large-scale disasters have on public trust.”
“Ugh, that sounds so boring” Kaminari groaned “History really knows how to make everything sound depressing”
“I dunno, dunce face, thats probably because we’re learning about people fucking dying” Bakugo snapped
“Still, they could be a little more optimistic” Kaminari shrugged
“I’m surprised you even know what that means” Jirou quipped back, not looking up
“Hey, what the hell does that mean!” Kaminari demanded “See if I ever charge your phone again”
“Class” Ango cleared his throat again before starting.
“When public trust collapses,” Ango began evenly, “governments compensate.”
He clicked to the next slide.
“Surveillance increases. Hero oversight expands. Emergency powers become easier to justify.” His gaze drifted briefly across the classroom. “Fear makes people willing to tolerate restrictions they normally wouldn’t.”
Most of the class began taking notes.
“After Kamino,” he continued, “public support for independent hero activity declined sharply. As a result, the government introduced stricter operational review systems.”
Uraraka raised a hand. “Because people blamed heroes?”
“Partially,” Ango replied. “Mostly because fear creates a demand for control.”
The logic never really changed.
Be it the government, intelligent agencies, the port mafia or even the hero commission society- it hardly mattered. The languages changed and methods varied but the justification stayed the same.
protect people.
maintain order.
accept necessary casualties.
Ango hated that phrase.
Necessary casualties
It reminded Ango of chief Taneda. The idea of quantifying human lives disgusted him- sacrificing one to save a hundred.
Because there were names attached to said ‘necessary casualties’.
There always were.
Ango had spent too many nights recording those names to forget it.
He remembered every file. Every report. Every body reduced to paperwork because someone higher up had decided the losses were acceptable.
He hated that part of his work.
Unfortunately, hating something had never stopped him from doing it.
“Anyways” Ango cleared his throat “Could anyone-”
Midoriya’s hand shot up.
“I haven’t asked the question yet.”
Midoriya froze. “...Right.”
“You raised your hand preemptively?” Yaoyorozu asked politely.
“I thought I might know the answer to the question,” Midoriya admitted.
Uraraka let out a small giggle at that and Midoriya’s head shot towards her.
“Fucking nerd” Bakugo scoffed under his breath
“Says the person who ranked higher than Midoriya in our midterms” Sero said.
“What the hell did you just say to me” Bakugo growled.
“Nothing,” Sero smiled.
God, Dazai would have hated this class.
The thought springs out of nowhere and it makes Ango freeze, because he could imagine it.
A sixteen year old Dazai with messy ash-brown curls falling into eyes of ink, his posture slouched and a lazy smile tugging at the corners of his mouth with wounds he didn’t know were bleeding.
Or maybe that wouldn’t be the case. Maybe Dazai wouldn’t wear his bandages, maybe he wouldn’t need to. Maybe there wouldn’t be any dried blood below his fingernails.Maybe his hands wouldn’t have been shrouded in blood.
Maybe he would’ve looked sixteen.
Just sixteen.
Annoying teachers. Sleeping through class. Complaining about homework. Rolling his eyes whenever Ango corrected him.
Maybe his smiles would’ve reached his eyes.
Maybe he would have been happy.
The thought makes Ango want to throw up
Would he have lasted here?
would he have wanted to?
Ango moves a slide forward. The projector hums. Another broken skyline.
And what about Oda?
For a second, it was the three of them — Oda, Dazai, Ango — sitting side by side in some sunlit Musutafu classroom, learning hero law instead of bleeding it. Oda with his head tilted, listening. Dazai asleep at his desk. Ango quietly correcting the teacher.
It was ridiculous.
It was impossible.
Their friendship only ever bloomed in blood. And like everything that blooms in blood, it wouldn’t last. Ango would still have found a way to fuck everything up.
He blinked and the ghost was gone.
U.A was full of hopeful children.
He wondered how long they’ll be able to stay that way.